The heavy tread of a well-worn tramping boot scuffs the trail;
a paced rhythm
A staccato clitter-clatter in the air as a pebble skitters away;
a cheeky companion
Cool morning air fills lungs with invigorating energy;
Fuelling the soul
Breath is expelled in a steamed huff as another step is made;
Unfurling
Every footfall leaves an identifying impression;
A stamp
The trail most significant is the one we make for ourselves;
Choices
Taking a moment to catch her breath, Hope stood on the hillside, looking back behind her. From this height, she had a fine view; there had been many routes available, and now that she had this vantage point, she realised she’d accidentally taken the hardest options.
“The roads more travelled are easier.” She murmured to herself while wondering if she could do it again; she’d not make life so damn difficult for herself.
The cry of a bird broke her regret-tinged reverie. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw a golden eagle, its vast wingspan stationary as it soared a slow circle above the ranges. Watching, observing, with latent energy. A powerful and magnificent creature. The sight was just what he needed to remind her of the now, and she turned back to face the challenge ahead.
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